Scars On The Hands
by Konsui's Little Brother
Summary: Those hands were the hands of someone living and not caring when he died, not if it was for a good cause. They were the hands of life. Kurama didn't know how no one, himself included, had never seen them before.


A/N: This was inspired by a drabble I wrote, featured in Fifty Words, and I hope everyone likes it! It was a lot of fun to write; the dynamic between the two always makes me grin.

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><p>Kurama wasn't actually sure how no one had noticed it before. He dealt with Kuwabara almost every day; training with him, working with him, healing him! And this had been something that, up until this very moment, he had never taken notice of.<p>

"Kuwabara..." His voice was soft, eyes travelling to the human hand resting on his bare and bruised shoulder.

The human boy didn't seem to notice what Kurama was actually looking at. Instead, he crouched down so that he was at relativly the same height as the fox-demon, who was still sitting in an ungraceful heap on the ground, and ran the fingers of his other hand across his back.

"It's not that bad." Kuwabara's voice came out sounding more like a grunt than anything else. "I don't think anythin's broken, at least. It's not even bleedin'."

Kurama tilted his head slightly, craning his neck to look at the human behind him. He hadn't needed someone to tell him that he hadn't broken any bones, he was quite capable of figuring that out himself. The fact that he very easily could have had his spine shattered if Kuwabara hadn't shown up when he had didn't escape him either.

The demon he'd been fighting, a behemoth of a thing, had been stronger than he or Koenma was expecting it to be. They hadn't gotten much of an energy source coming from the forest so it was just assumed that the beast would be a lower level demon. Kurama hadn't expected something strong enough to toss him around like he was a rag doll.

He could feel his body already starting to bruise, the skin swelling and turning hideous shades of purple, and the entirety of his ebing ached. Scattered across the clearing, one that had been created by the fight, was the remainders of Kurama's red shirt; it had been completely destroyed in the madness*. But his injuries weren't what he'd been trying to bring up.

Behind him, the orange haired human moved his fingers a little higher, gently pressing on the area below Kurama's shoulder. A low hiss left the fox-demon's lips at the contact, his body shying away on instinct. He regretted doing so almost instantly, the movement tugging on the injured skin and sending a wave of pain through his back.

"Sorry." Kuwabara leaned back, letting his weight rest on his heels. "I don't think you messed your anything up to badly. You should still let Yukina-Chan take a look, though. She's better at stuff like this then I am."

Kurama nodded but made no move to get up. He could still feel the rough, calloused skin on Kuwabara's hand resting lightly on his back; careful only to touch a spot that wasn't bruised. Instead, he tried to start up the conversation again. "Kuwabara."

"Eh, sorry." Pushing himself back up, Kuwabara brushed his pants off before walking around to the front of the red-headed demon. Without a word, he held out a hand towards Kurama.

For a moment, Kurama found himself just staring at the hand. And, once more, he couldn't believe that after all the time he spent with the human he was just now noticing it. Taking the offered hand, Kurama let himself be pulled up. He just didn't let go once he did.

"Kurama? Somethin' wrong?" Kuwabara wrinkled his nose slightly as he spoke, concern entering his dark grey eyes. "You're not dizzy are you?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Then-"

"Kuwabara?" Kurama paused for a moment, taking the time to feel the hardness beneath his own smooth skin. "What happened to your hands?" The difference between the two appendages was amazing, really.

Kurama's hands were smooth and pale. They had no outward blemishes, no blisters or callouses, nothing that betrayed the fact that he fought on a daily basis.

But...

Kuwabara's hands were the complete oppisite. The skin was rough, darker in some spots than in others, and ragged. Callouses ran the length of his fingers, the base and tips of each one pale and pasty looking. Small scars, thin and white, criss-crossed the palms. They weren't just the hands of a fighter, they were the hands of something else. Something that Kurama wasn't used to seeing.

"My hands?" Kuwabara blinked, looking down at where Kurama was still clutching his wrist. Sighing, he gently pulled his hand away from the fox-demon, slowly closing it into a fist, before letting both hands fall to his side.

There was silence for a moment, where Kurama almost regretted asking the question, before Kuwabara shook his head. "Life happened to them."

And with those few words, more questions popped into Kurama's mind. Questions that he would never ask because he had no right too; no right too demand details of the human's life when he refused share information about his own.

But Kurama wasn't given any more time to think, not then at least, because Kuwabara was already starting to walk off and calling for him to follow.


End file.
